by Dana Marton
“I vote for that.”
“It’s probably not a good idea to start a fire,” he said. “We shouldn’t need one anyway. It’s warm enough.”
She nodded, too tired to care.
He had her repeat one more time everything she’d heard at camp. Then the time came to settle down. They scraped together a bed of leaves. He rolled onto them first, waited for her. Here we go. She lay next to him, careful not to touch, and turned her back.
“If you notice any visitors, let me know,” he said from behind.
“You think they still might find us?” She turned her head so she could see his face in the moonlight.
“There’s always a chance for everything. But I was talking about other kinds of visitors, too. Like bears. Snakes seek out warm places at night.”
“Thanks for helping me fall asleep.”
He put a hand on her arm. “I don’t want you to be scared, but I want you to be prepared for everything.”
He was right. Better to be ready for any possibility than to be caught by surprise and panic. She turned to him fully. “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”
“As often as necessary. I have to say, though—” His lips, barely swollen now, stretched into a smile. “You’re by far the most beautiful partner I’ve ever had.”
She was stiff with tension, expecting either the men or the local wildlife to attack them at any minute. How could he joke at a time like this? And him calling her beautiful wasn’t fair, either. She could never forget the age difference between them, resented him just now for making her want to be something she wasn’t.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me.” She was flustered enough to pull a few inches further away.
“Why?” he asked, then his face went all serious. Too serious.
She froze. “What?” Oh God, tell me there isn’t a bear behind me.
“I was just thinking that if you didn’t like kissing me before I was all messed up, there’s probably no chance of getting a good-night kiss now that I look like I went a few rounds in a blender.”
“It’s not that. I—” She probably shouldn’t say this. “I liked kissing you.”
The lopsided smile that split his face reached all the way to her heart. She couldn’t seriously be thinking about this. Hadn’t she been annoyed at him just a minute ago? She was pitiful. Pathetic. She had to have more sense than this.
What the hell. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
Oh God, now I’ve gone and done it, was her last coherent thought. Then she could do nothing but feel—with every heartbeat, with every pore, the incredible sweetness of the moment filling her from the inside out, like some hidden water vein, rising up, filling a drying well.
He didn’t push for more. If he had, she would probably have pulled away. Instead, she brushed her mouth over his, then moved on to place gentle kisses over the bruises on his face. When they were done, a mutual unspoken agreement as if they thought with the same heart, she snuggled up against him, pressing her face against his neck, and let him hold her as tightly as he wanted.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
And she remembered another night a million years ago with an old boyfriend, who’d said that for a man, any encounter with a woman that didn’t end in sex was considered incomplete and unsatisfactory.
She glanced up at Danny. His eyes told her all she needed to know.
“Perfect,” she whispered against his skin. Because for this moment, he was. And since it was only a moment, she could allow herself to enjoy it instead of worrying about it.
She soaked up his heat and breathed him in. His strength was all around her. For the first time in years, despite the peril around them, she slept as peacefully as a child.
THE MAN stalked through the woods with determination. She was still out there somewhere. How far could she have gotten, injured like that? Not far. He had cut her good—good enough so that he’d thought she was dead. He wasn’t going to make that mistake twice. Next time he would make damned sure the job was finished.
He was a hunter by nature and good at it. Once he picked his prey, he didn’t stop until he succeeded. He had tracked a ten-point buck once for three weeks through the woods, living off the land. The antlers were nailed over his front door.
He would find Kaye Miller. Hunting was in his blood. He didn’t know how to stop until the kill was made. And this hunt proved to be more challenging, more exciting than any he had done before. His prey was smart, but he didn’t expect her to give him much more sport. He’d seen the blood at the hospital and in the body bag. If she kept moving, the wound wouldn’t get the chance to close. Most likely, she was down by now, holed up somewhere, too weak from blood loss. Chances were better than good that she was already dead.
Whatever had happened to her, he had no intention of stopping until he had the body—one way or the other.
DANNY LISTENED to the voices of the night, his body aching, his blood restless. He looked at the woman in his arms, engulfed by emotions he hadn’t asked for and didn’t understand. He hadn’t expected this. Sure, somewhere down the line when he settled down. But not now, not with this particular woman. Kaye Miller. The Colonel was going to kill him.
He didn’t care.
At least she felt it, too—whatever it was they had between them—no matter how hard she tried to fight it. She hadn’t realized yet that neither of them had a choice.
She was going to change his life—had changed it already simply by entering it. Kaye Miller, future Speaker of the House. God, he was going to have to go to parties and wear a tux. The thought of that hurt more than his broken ribs. Then he thought of her in that black dress she’d worn at The Hotel George, and smiled. Maybe going to fancy parties with her wouldn’t be such a chore after all.
He would probably have to get some civilian occupation for cover. He let his mind try on a few possibilities. Security consulting? He’d be good at that. Or maybe he could open his own landscaping supply business. It would save a lot of money around the house. He enjoyed spending time outdoors anyway.
He heard a small noise in the bushes in the distance and reached for the rifle.
Whatever it was, it moved on in no particular hurry. Probably a deer. He relaxed.
Kaye stirred in his arms, so he held still, not wanting to wake her. She opened her eyes anyway, looked at him for a few seconds before she came fully awake.
“What time is it?”
“A little after three. You can rest some more.”
She closed her eyelids, but they popped open again a moment later. “I didn’t even ask you. How did you find me?”
“Congressman Cole is in with the Brotherhood.”
“Roger?”
The pain of betrayal on her face made him want to gather her to him, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to that, to some other news he still had to give her, so he stayed away.
“For what it’s worth, he didn’t want you to get hurt. They were blackmailing him.” He told her what he’d found out from Cole.
“Roger rammed me in the tunnel? But it wasn’t his car. I know his car.”
“It was an out-of-state rental he happened to have that week. He saw an opportunity and took it. He wanted to do something to put your security on high alert.” He filled her in on the rest, watched her face change from disbelief to anger as she processed it all.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked when he was done with the story. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He was scared, Kaye, that’s all. When people get scared they do stupid things.”
She nodded and fell silent for a while.
“I can’t believe you interrogated a congressman.”
“Not just one.”
He really didn’t want to talk about Brown, but he had to tell her at some point. Might as well get it over with. Man, but he hated to see her hurt.
“There’s something Brown told me.”
“He can’t be in t
his, too.” Her eyes were wide and vulnerable.
“Not in this. It’s personal. It’s about Ian and it might—” What the hell was he supposed to say? “It might change your memory of him. You might not want to know.”
And he sure didn’t want to be the one to tell her. He was interested in her, wanted her. Trashing her dead husband’s memory was the nastiest thing he could imagine doing.
He watched her take a deep breath and gather new strength.
“I want to know,” she said.
“He, um… He and Suze Cole, Congressman Brown’s wife. I’m sorry.”
“They dated in college. I knew that.”
He really didn’t want to say anything more.
“After we were married?” she asked after a while with a catch in her voice.
“No, of course, not. But after…after they were married.”
“Ian would never…” She fell silent and closed her eyes.
So his instincts had been correct and she hadn’t known.
“Maybe he didn’t,” he rushed to say. “What the hell does Brown know? Maybe he’s a jealous jackass.” Why the hell did he have to go and tell her? What was he, stupid? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s—”
“It’s okay. I’d rather know,” she said as she turned her back to him. Her voice sounded off.
Was she crying?
“Kaye?”
He reached for her, but changed his mind and pulled his hand back. He had no right to touch her, no right to offer her comfort, especially since he was the one who’d made her this upset.
“Let’s go to sleep,” she said.
“You can hit me, or something. If it’d make you feel better.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
He stared at the silhouette of her slim back, wanting more than anything to draw her into his arms. It bothered him more than all his wounds that he couldn’t.
Chapter Eight
“Here it comes.”
Kaye pulled her head down, hiding behind the bushes while Danny stood by the side of the road and waved at the dark-green pickup. The vehicle slowed, and she registered the two men inside, the gun rack in the back window—nothing to be alarmed by in this part of the state, plenty of hunters.
When they got close enough, she looked over their faces, but didn’t recognize either man. Were they part of the Brotherhood? There had been too many to remember them all. She’d seen only a few, but had heard many while she’d been hiding under the bed, would recognize a number of voices.
Danny stood relaxed, probably wanting to look as friendly as he could. His face was bad enough.
She had tried to convince him to let her stand out there, but he wouldn’t let her anywhere near the road.
“I need some help,” he said now, making sure his hands were in plain view so they could see he was unarmed.
Then the door opened and the men got out, both with handguns pointed at him.
Kaye gripped the rifle. They were too close to Danny. She was a terrible shooter even at paintball—the only time she’d had a gun in her hands before, at Sadie’s insistence. Could she risk a shot now?
“Looks like this is the end of the road for you,” the taller of the two said to Danny while the other sneered.
They both wore a hodgepodge of clothing that included a few pieces of camouflage and boots. They looked fine otherwise, no sign of injury. Apparently, they hadn’t been among the ones who’d tangled with Danny in the ravine.
She kept her finger on the trigger, ready, and watched as Danny stepped closer to them slowly, his hands rising at his sides as if in capitulation. The next second he was grabbing for the handgun tucked into his waistband behind his back.
Two shots were all it took. He had the men disarmed and clutching their injuries on the ground within seconds. And she was flying out of the woods with the rifle.
“Didn’t I say not to come out until I tell you?” He shook his head, but was too busy tying the men up with their belts to give her a lecture.
“Damn, him and the politician bitch were together. Do you believe this?” the short stocky guy said as he stared at Kaye.
The other one grunted with frustration as he fought against his bindings in vain. “You’re gonna regret this. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“A bunch of gutless losers,” Danny said, and pulled the belt tight.
“Are we leaving them?” She was shaking but kept the rifle pointed at the one Danny was working on. She was close enough now not to miss, not to put Danny’s life in danger if she had to shoot. She flinched when the man let loose a string of colorful curses.
“Can’t leave them.” Danny tied off the belt. “Their buddies will be along soon enough, I’m sure. Anyway, Secret Service would want them for questioning.”
The guy spat at Danny but missed, listed a variety of heated threats then swore some more.
“Shouldn’t talk like that in front of a lady.” Danny took the guy’s camouflage baseball hat and gagged him with it, then did the same with the other one.
He picked up the tall man first, bit back a groan as the man jerked around in protest, but dumped him into the back of the truck. Kaye stepped forward to help with the second man.
“Don’t do it. It’ll open up your wound again.”
“You have worse injuries.”
“I’m used to working injured. You keep the gun on them. We shouldn’t both lay down weapons at the same time.” He glanced at the woods.
He was right. There were still others out there, looking for them.
She waited for him to finish, her rifle at the ready.
“Congressman Kaye Miller, commando babe.” He grinned when they were done and sitting in the cab.
“Think I can use that in my next campaign?” Her lips twitched. They had a car. They’d made it.
“Color flyers. Nobody could resist this.” He gestured at her.
She shook her head, trying not to think what her colleagues would say if they could see her now. Kaye Miller, anti-violence poster girl. Funny how life worked out sometimes.
“Let’s get going,” she said, aware that they were both keeping the mood light for each other’s sake. They were both in bad shape, Danny worse than she. She’d be surprised if he didn’t have internal injuries.
They reached a roadside gas station in half an hour and called in their location to Cal, along with what information they had on the Summit.
The chopper took less than twenty minutes to get there with a medic who started an IV on both of them the second they were inside the bird.
“Feeling better?” Danny asked.
She nodded. “Thank you.” The words were woefully inadequate. What he’d done for her, that he had come for her alone…
“And thank you, Congresswoman.”
She hated that he’d switched back to formality, but understood that he was doing it for her sake. She fisted her hand so she wouldn’t reach out and take his. Anything beyond their professional relationship was impossible between them. Now that they were no longer alone, it was easier to remember that. Easier to remember, but not any easier to accept.
“Could you lie back, sir?” One of the paramedics was examining his face, a purplish mess crisscrossed with red lines where his skin had split during the beatings.
“How bad is it?” She couldn’t help asking.
“Not bad for armed conflict, Congresswoman,” the paramedic responded with a polite smile.
She took a deep breath, then another, watched the woman wash the injuries and dress them.
“Shouldn’t they be stitched?”
“At the hospital. That’s more careful work than we can do in the chopper.” The woman worked efficiently, moving from one spot to the next.
With not much to do until they got to D.C., Kaye watched them, grabbing on to the gurney when the chopper banked to the left.
He turned to her on reflex to see if she was okay, making her smile. He smiled back.
<
br /> “Are you okay?”
From the way he was looking at her, she knew he was asking about more than her physical wellbeing. They had talked little all morning, tired from hiking through the woods, feeling awkward after the conversation they’d had in the middle of the night.
“Fine. Thank you for telling me everything.”
She wasn’t glad for what had happened between Ian and Suze, but she would rather know it than be protected from the truth as Cal might have done. She appreciated Danny’s vote of confidence that she could deal with it. In the treacherous world of politics, if Congressman Brown had something personal against her that affected their professional relationship, it was better to know so she could be on her guard.
Ian and Suze. When? She’d asked herself this a hundred times during the night. Then she’d figured it out. It had to be the summer she’d gone to Europe. She’d loved it, had told Ian she might not come back. They’d been kids.
It hurt, of course. It brought into question the Ian she knew. For a while last night, she had raged, felt fooled, felt betrayed. Then she’d realized that Ian was entitled to his own mistakes. He had made some, but he’d grown somehow through them, learning from them, into the wonderful man she had fallen in love with. Nothing could change that.
They’d had a good marriage, one that was rare by today’s standards. She had loved and been loved in return. That was as big a blessing as anyone could hope for in this life.
She watched Danny watching her. And what of him? There was something there. Something warm and safe and wonderful she wanted to fall in to and be enveloped by. And it made her feel nervous. The impulse was unexpected and completely inappropriate.
Even beyond the fact that he was her bodyguard, she couldn’t fall for Danny. She couldn’t fall in love with him, because if she did, then what of her love for Ian? What of the idea of a once-in-a-lifetime sweeping love, the memory of which was supposed to be enough to keep her alive? It couldn’t be right, to feel like that again, to feel it with another man.